Flames Of Insanity
by Heaven Star
Summary: Crawford rarely has to deal with difficult team members, well noting he can't Forsee or otherwise deal with, but what happens if a shady deal changes his whole team's foundations? Rating will probably go up as the fic progresses.
1. Chapter 1

A/N - After much contemplation of whether or not I should branch out from my usual 'fluff' genre into the untried waters of multi-chap, I finally decided to give it a go.all I had to do was wait for a storyline - after a few months, this is the result!  
  
Being new to the realm of multi-chap fics I'd really appreciate reviews, I really appreciate them, especially when they have notes about how I can improve (please note I did not say 'flame me').  
  
I should probably also mention possible OOC-ness in this fic, I have a bad habit of changing characters away from their true forms, please just consider it artist license or something! If you really have a problem with OOC parts in my fics, tell me and I'll do my best to correct them. I've babbled long enough, enjoy my fic!  
  
Finally, I apologise if my formatting is bad, my computer decided to chuck a hissy fit at me and not work for a while, chew up files, etc. It looked OK in word but I'm not sure how the formatting's going to work when I post it. Sorry!  
  
Disclaimer - I don't own Weiss, well for the purposes of this fic I should probably say something more along the lines of 'I don't own Schwarz', please don't sue me, you won't get much money. Also I don't think Australian copies of Rurouni Kenshin will resell for much.(Unfortunately I have yet to own Weiss, so you won't even be able to get your own product in the Australian version.)  
  
Flames Of Insanity  
  
Chapter 1  
  
A phone rings persistently from its resting- place upon the expensive mahogany desk. The noise continues, seemingly unnoticed as it travels through the lavishly furnished penthouse, until a heavily accented voice called,  
  
"That's the phone, Braddie!"  
  
The American sighed before running a hand through his neat, black hair and deliberately choosing not to respond to the other man's comment. Instead he picked up the loudly complaining telephone and answered,  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Crawford."  
  
The voice on the other end was cool, expressionless and professional. Crawford's blue-black eyebrows raised slightly as he responded, this time in an equally suave tone, mentally cursing a certain red-haired telepath who had annoyed him seconds before he had picked up the phone.  
  
"Yes. I hope you were satisfied with the completion of our last mission."  
  
The voice on the other end of the line showed no sign of acknowledgment to the American's comment, instead seemingly ignoring it and continuing,  
  
"Yes, quite satisfied, however we have received word of another psychic you might be interested in."  
  
The precognitive man's, now lowered brows contracted slightly as he contemplated these words, he hadn't been contacted about any possible new team members for years. He ran a thumb absent-mindedly across one of the buttons on his expensively cut ivory coloured suit before he responded,  
  
"Really, I'm intrigued, but I was under the impression that our team was of substantial size already."  
  
The suave, male voice didn't miss a beat and answered smoothly,  
  
"So were we, however we thought this one might be of some use to you."  
  
The Schwarz leader paused for a moment, he knew that the man on the other line was capable of slippery deals and the American was not about to be hoodwinked because of an irrational response.  
  
"Go on."  
  
The professional voice on the other end obviously chose to ignore Crawford's pause, continuing on as if nothing had happened,  
  
" We believe her to be the only trained pyrokinetic in the world at the moment."  
  
Crawford's wariness left as he leapt onto a point, in the other's comment, he felt needed to be addressed.  
  
"Her?"  
  
The man known as The Oracle rapidly started mentally preparing his polite refusal of the other man's offer, the last thing he needed at the present moment was another distraction for his team. At the same time he thanked God that his mental shields were strong enough to withstand intrusion attempts from the annoying German somewhere else in the penthouse couldn't hear this conversation, however the eldest Schwarz member was sure it wasn't because the telepath hadn't tried.  
  
The voice must have picked up something in Crawford's response because the tone changed quickly from suave and slick to secretive and confidential,  
  
"Yes, we have already received interest from several other psychic organisations."  
  
The voice trailed off, as if leaving the comment open for Crawford to comment on or simply contemplate. The American's chocolate coloured eyes turned steely, he knew the game the other man was playing. A catch 22, it was obvious, to Crawford at least, that Rosenkreuz had contacted them. If he accepted the psychic he would be playing into the others man's hands, if he refused the pyrokinetic would be sent straight to Rosenkreuz. The precognitive Schwarz leader resisted the urge to swear out loud before he recomposed himself and replied, feigning interest in order to buy himself time and replied,  
  
"Really? So why did you contact me?"  
  
The man on the other end gave a soft chuckle before he responded,  
  
"Her mental state is, shall we say, less than stable? Our other interested parties lost some momentum after we informed them, though they are still keen, pyrokinetics being as rare as they are. After the slight loss of interest from the others we decided to contact you, considering the mental state of one of your members as well as the psychic state of yourself and the other members of your team."  
  
Crawford saw the big picture now - Rosenkreuz refused to take on a "student" that was "mentally unstable", knowing full well that there was a high possibility that during their "training process" problems could occur. With a highly rare, unpredictable and offensive power such as pyrokinetics the results could well cause damage to anyone in the immediate area, and possibly the surrounding area as well.  
  
Their more practical option was to pass her on to Schwarz, that was they ensured a relatively safe place where the person in question could no doubt pick up on the other psychic vibes in the team and learn from them. As well as ensuring they kept the rare power on their side. Crawford scowled at the thought he was classified on the same side as Rosenkreuz.  
  
For this reason Crawford's voice was clipped and cool when he replied,  
  
"So you assumed I would accept?"  
  
The suave voice returned and to his credit didn't miss a beat, countering swiftly, playing Crawford's own game now,  
  
"On the contrary, I assumed you would decline, which is what you have just done, is it not, Crawford?"  
  
Crawford was about to open his mouth and reply when his vision blurred and he was struck by a premonition.  
  
//A small shadowy figure it's back facing towards him, sent a wave of flames from it's outstretched palms to engulf three men who were sending a rapid volley of bullets towards them. With a final shriek they disappeared, flames and all. The alley was silent for a moment until several liquid droplets landed on the ground with a hiss, pooling in a strangely metallic way. The bullets.//  
  
Crawford's eyes slid back into focus and he replied slightly breathless at the amount of power he had just witnessed,  
  
"No, I just accepted."  
  
With that the American placed the receiver back on the cradle, still trying to deal with what he had just seen he stepped a little way away from the phone, his eyes still not entirely in focus, this time not because of a premonition, but lost in thought. The pyrokinetic had clearly saved his life.  
  
A/N - That's my first chappie out of the way! As a general note this fic is set one year after the original Weiss Kreuz saga, though there is reference to Rosenkreuz in this fic, I have not based anything on the second Weiss series, which deals with it. This is artistic license as I choose to use it! 


	2. Chapter 2

A/N - Welcome to the second chapter of 'Flames Of Insanity'! Thank you to those who reviewed and my sincere apologies for the crappy formatting! I have re-posted the chapter and hopefully the problem has been fixed, so if anyone want's to read the first chapter without the 'gibberish' around all the apostrophes and comma's etc. feel free. The next chapter won't be posted until I have 6 reviews up! For all the Schu fans he gets a good run in this chapter!  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Weiss Kreuz, Project Weiss and various other people who I can't be bothered listing have that honour! Bugger them all! (Oh God that was a stereotypical Aussie line wasn't it?! ^_^;;)  
  
Flames Of Insanity  
  
Chapter 2  
  
The Precognitive man started to turn towards the door when a rude beeping noise stopped him. He slowly turned his head to look over his shoulder and finally lay his bespectacled gaze on the cause of the interruption - the fax machine. The infernal beeping continued and Crawford found himself cursing a member of his team, of German decent who would remain nameless for the time being, for the second time in five minutes. The Telepath had decided to bestow this 'thoughtful' gift upon him for a birthday present. That had been two months ago and the recipient of the present was already prepared to throw the machine out of his office window and happily watch it plummet 23 storeys to strike the pavement below and meet it's metaphorical death.  
  
Controlling his emotions with the thought of what the grinning German would say if he did carry through with his plan, the ebony haired leader strode slowly over to the, still beeping, machine. Upon reaching the grey streamlined annoyance it proceeded to cleverly spit out a sheet of paper with a photograph and several paragraphs of neatly printed writing that seemed to be, on average, size 8 font. Muttering under his breath, using colourful language of which Schuldig would be proud, he snatched up the sheet and, in doing so, received a paper cut - which instantly started to bleed.  
  
Cursing more profusely the American swiftly changed the document from one hand to the other, ensuring its safety from the crimson liquid trickling from his finger. He stalked back towards his desk and furiously jerked open the topmost drawer causing its contents to jump violently out of their normal positions to realign themselves in various abnormal positions around the drawer. Plunging his bleeding hand into the clutter that had now taken over the drawer the Schwarz leader satisfactorily curled his fingers around the cardboard Band-Aid* Box and removing it, and it's presently vital contents, from the drawer. It was only then that the precognitive man, who usually had everything organised and prepared in advance, realised that he had run out of useable hands.  
  
The American paused for a moment, thinking quickly, and the still enduring fax machine deposited another sheet of minutely printed text onto the steadily rising pile already established in its tray. As Crawford was about to cast the original sheet, in his hand, onto his spotlessly- clean mahogany desk, thus allowing him to tend to his wound, the phone rang again. Gritting his teeth in annoyance the American made a split-second decision,  
  
"Schuldig!"  
  
The summoned German appeared within seconds to lean against the office doorframe, smirking at his team leader's stressful moment. The orange- haired assassin stood there for a moment before saying with a half chuckle,  
  
"Yes?"  
  
Crawford whirled around to set his seething gaze on the smirking, apparently stress-free, Telepath. He brandished the sheet of paper clutched in his uninjured hand at the German and snapped,  
  
"Hold this."  
  
Schuldig shrugged casually, still smirking, before stepping forward and taking the sheet slowly and carefully from the American, clearly enjoying the annoyance his slow and deliberate actions were causing his superior. Just before he plucked the sheet fully from the ebony haired man's grasp he grinned, causing his sapphire eyes to dance mischievously,  
  
"Sure.Braddie."  
  
Crawford shot a malicious look at the teasing Telepath before he turned back to the loudly protesting telephone and snatched it up,  
  
"Hello?"  
  
Schuldig chuckled as he watched the American quickly recover his usual, business-like personality. It wasn't often that Brad Crawford openly lost control, however to the Telepath each time was as entertaining as the last. Tearing his laughing eyes away from the dark haired man who was now engrossed in the 'ever important phone conversation' the curious German idly flipped over the sheet in his hand, inspecting it with wicked blue eyes.  
  
To Schuldig's amusement Crawford saw what the other man was doing and tried to catch the other man's eye in order to glare at him, in a vain hope the red-head would put the sheet down. The German made as if he was blissfully unaware of the older man's efforts, while inwardly laughing. The American soon realised his attempt was failing, suffering from extreme frustration and stress he picked up the nearest object, a dictionary with h is free, bleeding hand, the other clutched the receiver. He stepped across the room as far as the telephone cord would permit and swung the dictionary dangerously close to Schuldig, who jumped away with astonishing speed just in time. Caught off guard, the American was forced to slam the dictionary down onto his desk with a crash that made its drawers rattle.  
  
Schuldig snickered before deliberately turning back to the sheet in his hand, at the same time edging cautiously out of the American's reach. When he took in the contents of the sheet his devilish grin broadened and his navy blues began to dance in dangerous amusement. Preoccupied with delight as he was, the Telepath did not miss the sound of the phone being hung up. Instead he raised his wicked eyes to meet those of the steadily advancing team leader and flipping the sheet around so the American had a clear view,  
  
"Who's the cutie?"  
  
* Do I have to disclaim 'Band-Aid'? Oh well, I'll do it anyway simply because I don't want to get sued for, er, *advertising* their product.I don't own 'Band-Aid'!  
  
A/N - After my insane little disclaimer.! This fic will take a little while to really get going, I apologise if you don't like fics that take a little while to start - I've planned the whole story out. I know where it's going, but because of that I also know that I need to spend some time at the start getting the basics of this fic down because it's going to be important later on! (By basics I mean how I interpret the team to interact with each other, personalities etc.) Hope you enjoyed this installment! 


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Once again thank you to those who reviewed!! It's great to hear feed- back -  
  
Alexis: Schu really is cute when he's teasing isn't he?! ^_^ I'm having a lot of fun writing him in, but I have to remember that he has a (very small I admit) serious side.  
  
AkariRyu: I personally felt that Crawford was really OOC there - but I felt it was appropriate to put in considering the circumstances, I'll try and make him a little more in character in future ^_^  
  
This chapter is fairly short and could probably be stuck onto the next one to make one big long chapter - but you get what you're given! (Mwahahaha - that's my pathetic attempt at an evil laugh, I'll get Schu in to do it next time or maybe Farf could put in a 'yeyeye') What am I babbling on for?! Enjoy this chappie!  
  
Disclaimer: Unfortunately I don't own Weiss (or Schwarz) or anything remotely related to them. I am not doing this for profit (wouldn't it be cool if you could get paid for writing fan-fics?! ^_^)*ahem* I am merely borrowing these wonderfully colourful characters for my own writing pleasure - don't deny a fan- girl her fun by suing her! Oh and by the way - I don't own Band- Aid either!  
  
"Flames Of Insanity"  
  
Chapter 3  
  
Crawford took his first good look at the sheet the grinning German had waved in front of his nose, in the top right hand corner was a colour head- shot photo of a girl. She had shoulder length jet- black hair, bright blue eyes and a white, almost ashen complexion complete with a stubborn, square jaw, which gave her a distinct gothic look. The American scowled, thinking to himself that the photo may as well have been in black and white for all the colour in it, he held out a hand - complete with adorning Band Aid,  
  
"Never mind Schuldig."  
  
However, a Telepath is never someone who takes being told "never mind" lightly, and Schuldig was no exception. He slowly pulled the sheet back towards himself before flipping it over again with a sinister snicker,  
  
"New girlfriend, eh?"  
  
The German raised his sapphire blue eyes to look at the older man, continuing to smirk and made his next comment,  
  
"I didn't know dating agencies made a habit of faxing details out."  
  
The American lowered his blue-black eyebrows and said firmly, his hand still extended,  
  
"Give it back, Schuldig."  
  
The German kept up a steady, almost expressionless eye contact for a few seconds before slowly raising one russet- coloured eyebrows and slowly shaking his head from side to side, one corner of his mouth raised slightly in a smirk,  
  
"Schuldig."  
  
Crawford's voice held more than a hint of warning, the German paused for a moment before flicking his dancing eyes to the sheet and back at his fellow Schwarz member. Crawford was wary as soon as he saw the Telepath raise his eyes again, they were slightly wide and the older man readied himself for the German's next remark, which was spoken in mock horror,  
  
"Braddie, I know they're hot when they're young - but 17?!"  
  
The German happily watched his "prey" for a reaction - he didn't have to wait long. Whatever Crawford had been expecting it wasn't that. He simply stared at the German for a moment before leaping forward and snatching the piece of paper out of the redhead's hands with a snapped,  
  
"17?"  
  
Schuldig was looking as serious and concerned as his mischievous self would allow particularly when he was reeling from the leader's sudden actions. Under the circumstances the German felt obliged to say something that ran as close to the lines of sympathy as he could manage - in other words he said the first thing that came into his head,  
  
"Don't worry, Braddie, I'm sure if you rang them back and told them you were after something older they'd be more than happy to help."  
  
Crawford slowly raised his eyes to look at the German, their gaze was so cold that not even Schuldig could withstand it. He slowly smiled before shrugging and turning to head for the door.  
  
Crawford was seething with rage, there was no way Rosenkreuz would accept a 17-year-old, even if they were Pyrokinetic - they were too set in their ways then, no good. The bastard had deceived him and if there was one thing the precognitive man hated it was being deceived. (The fact that he prided himself in deceiving others was a different matter entirely.).  
  
The office door clicked closed and Crawford noticed that the red-haired Telepath had left the room. He whirled around, as if looking for someone to blame, when his hate filled eyes fell upon "Schuldig's Fax Machine". In an instant the American's usual impassive exterior returned as he purposefully covered the distance between himself and the machine. He plucked the carefully printed sheets out and placed then in a neat stack upon a nearby filing cabinet. He then tugged the various wires and cords trailing from the back of the sleek, grey object, removing them. After this he calmly opened the window, picked up the fax machine, the infernal new carrying fax machine, before casually dropping it out of the window.  
  
A/N: Ah well that's pretty much got my intro out of the way - finally! Stay tuned for the next installment of what I hope doesn't drag on forever (unless of course the readers *want* it to.)! Next chapter should be posted soon - I'm on a roll at the moment so enjoy it while it lasts! I'll have jinxed it now and I'll get writing block for a week, or two, or three.^_^;; 


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I finally got around to posting the next chappie! Yay! Sorry about the delay, homework and work and all the annoying time consuming stuff that goes with it prevented me from posting sooner - the good news is that I finally have! Thanks to all the reviewers for their comments on the previous chapters, you were all responsible for finally making me feel guilty enough to post the next chapter - keep up the good work! Without further ado, the next installment in 'Flames of Insanity' (which is soon to drive me to the point of insanity!In the nicest possible way of course!) Enjoy!  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Weiss Kreuz as much as I would like to, I can't be bothered listing the people who do, just know that I don't and I'm merely borrowing the characters to entertain me and take up what little time I have left. Don't sue me, please!  
  
Flames Of Insanity - Chapter 4  
  
Halfway down the cream carpeted hallway the German had pulled out a cigarette box and lighter from his back pocket, expertly flipping open the lid of the box with his thumb. Plucking one of the cigarettes from the box with a thumb and forefinger the orange-haired man turned the nicotine- craving-reducing object over idly before slipping its tan end between his lips. Raising his cheap red plastic lighter to sit level with the cigarette before flicking it in a clearly practiced motion.  
  
The flint sparked but failed to create the necessary flame. Lowering h is russet coloured brows a little the telepath carefully flicked the lighter again. Once more the flint sparked but failed to ignite a flame. Scowling Schuldig impatiently flicked the lighter four times in rapid succession - still failing to entice the elusive tongue of flame to appear. The Mastermind was about to flick the lighter once again, gripping the plastic object so tightly he saw his knuckles turn white when an almighty crash made him leap half a foot into the air in alarm. His luxurious mane of red hair flew in all directions before finally settling, over his trademark yellow bandana, in his eyes.  
  
Navy eyes widened in horror as his mouth lost its grip on the precious cigarette and it tumbled from his lips to land on the lush carpeted floor. Ordinarily this wouldn't have been such a problem, the Schwarz leader being notorious for being a 'clean freak' ensuring that their living quarters were generally immaculate. However since a certain Irish team member had scared their newest cleaning lady almost to the pint of madness the penthouse had been uncharacteristically unclean.  
  
Upon seeing his cigarette fall upon a particularly dusty and dirty patch of carpet, settling itself amongst the cream coloured pile of the carpet, various balls of fluff, a few chip crumbs and a dark stain (that the German had a sinister suspicion was blood). The telepath had nothing to say, he simply stared, slightly slack jawed before uttering the first sound he had made for a few minutes,  
  
"SHIT!!!"  
  
Whirling around in a vain attempt to locate the source of the noise the telepath also sent out strong mental probes to the other team members minds. Sliding over the strong shielding that patrolled the American's mind Schuldig muttered a string of obscene curses in various languages and dropped the probe before focussing on the insane team member, who he found was preoccupied with cross-hatching his left arm. Deciding to leave him to it Schuldig prepared to attack Nagi, before remembering their youngest team member was still at school.  
  
With a scowl and a final glance at the cigarette the German continued along the hall and down the stairs. The orange-haired assassin stalked into the kitchen and flicked the switch on the coffee- pot and preparing to wait for it to brew. The Telepath sat on the cedar wood bench and wondered whether he had somehow picked up the gift of empathy and picked up on Crawford's bad mood.  
  
He glanced at the slowly percolating coffee, the only thing he could think of that would take his mind off the nicotine craving writhing in his gut. The phone on the wall next to him rang loudly and instead of jumping in alarm he extended an arm rapidly and yanked the phone of the wall before it rang a second time and drawling into the receiver,  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Hello, is this Brad Crawford?"  
  
The voice on the other end was distinctly female, with a slight accent that the German couldn't quite place, the word were obviously practiced - Schuldig picked up a slight tone of boredom in her voice. The telepath toyed with the idea of replying 'yes' but then decided, considering the mood the American was currently in and the fact that if it was something important he would have problems lying his way out of it. Crawford's shields were too strong for the telepath to break quickly, if at all. Schuldig sighed like a child who had been deprived of a candy bar and replied,  
  
"No, I'll go get him - who's this?"  
  
"Anna Mavericks."  
  
"Right, hold for a moment."  
  
Schuldig bumped the hold button, replaced the receiver on the wall and called,  
  
"Crawford! Phone call on line 1!" 


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: My apologies for taking so long between updates - I'll try and update more regularly but homework generally takes precedence over fanfics (as much as I hate to admit it!) Please review because I love hearing feedback on what was good/bad about each chappie. Enjoy the next installment!  
  
Disclaimer: I do not, by any stretch of the imagination, own Weiss Kreuz it's related characters or plots. I do however own all original characters and storylines created in this piece of fanfiction. Do me a favour and please don't sue me.  
  
Warning: This fic is going to be upped to R after this chapter - if you think it needs to be changed *this* chapter please don't get my fic taken off, e-mail me and I'll gladly change it. There is coarse language in this chapter, if it might offend you I suggest you don't read any further. There's also a slight, homosexual reference - same deal - if you find it offensive my apologies, if you think it might be offensive don't read any further.  
  
Flames Of Insanity - Chapter 5  
  
Upstairs Crawford sighed before sitting down in his well padded leather desk chair and picked up the phone he had seemingly replaced only seconds before. He almost lazily tapped the flashing "on-hold" button and answered, considerably calmer after his episode with the fax machine, and answered coolly,  
  
"Brad Crawford."  
  
"Mr. Crawford, my name is Anna Mavericks."  
  
The name rang a bell in his memory, holding the phone to his ear with one hand he began rifling through the neat stack of papers before him with the other, at the same time commenting with what was probably not considered his most intellectual answer ever,  
  
"Yes."  
  
The voice on the other end sighed in what the Schwarz leader assumed was either from boredom or exasperation. However the sigh seemed to be cut short, as if the person on the other end of the line had suddenly been silenced, for reasons unknown to him. The American's assassin's instincts kicked in, honed from too much overtime at his tedious job, he was about to speak when the girl continued,  
  
"I heard you - "  
  
This time the phone just fell dead for a moment before the familiar beeping of a phone offline came to rest in the Precognitive man's ears. It took barely a moment for this to register before he slammed the accursed phone back down in its cradle and his still scavenging hand alighted upon the first facsimile sheet. The ebony haired man peered down at the gothic looking girl in the photo and for the first time his eyes rested on the name printed across the top of the page - 'Anna Mavericks'  
  
He whirled towards the office door and flung it open, hearing the hinges creak ominously as he did so before he bellowed down the hall,  
  
"Schuldig! Trace that call!"  
  
Pulling a mobile from his pocket as he strode quickly down the cream carpeted hall, ignoring it's less than immaculate state. Damn he hated it when he was boxed in. Damn he hated being out maneuvered. Damn this Pyrokinetic and her obvious lack of sense.  
  
The orange haired German looked towards the stairs when he heard his superior's voice call and the swift steps that were currently pelting down the hall towards him. The coffee finished brewing at the exact moment Crawford stalked into the room and the Mastermind made an executive decision that his cravings were more important than whatever Crawford was going to yell at him to do. That and there was the added bonus of annoying the hell out of an already annoyed leader.  
  
Jumping lightly down from the bench, opening one of the cedar cupboards and removing two white mugs from it before kicking the door closed Schuldig couldn't help but grin, Crawford was so uptight that his barriers were wavering - ever so slightly. Crawford glared at the Telepath who was "blissfully unaware of his leaders presence".  
  
Lips tight, jaw rigid and eyes flashing dangerously the American strode the few paces across the kitchen to stand a few centimeters away from the orange haired man. Schuldig didn't seem phased, instead he indicated to the mugs on the bench and the coffee pot in his hand,  
  
"Coffee, Crawford?"  
  
Crawford slammed his fist down on the cheery coloured wooden bench top and snarled in the German's ear,  
  
"Schuldig, did you trace that call?"  
  
Schuldig dropped two teaspoons of sugar into one of the coffee mugs and slid the other, plain black on, towards the older man before shrugging and giving his painfully cryptic reply,  
  
"I trace calls and I trace calls." The Telepath glanced over his shoulder with an impish grin lighting his wicked face, "Which one were you after?"  
  
Crawford glared at the Telepath before leaning even closer and saying quietly, in the tone of voice you use when someone has died - or is about to,  
  
"The one I just asked you to trace, Schuldig."  
  
The German feigned innocence and replied, arrogant thoughtfulness dripping from every syllable,  
  
"The one you just asked me to - oh, that call!" Schuldig smirked and commented, "Why didn't you say so?"  
  
The Telepath idly drummed his fingers on the bench top and frowned, his brow furrowed in mock thought,  
  
"I think it was from Saudi Arabia - some oil baron's palace."  
  
"Schuldig." Crawford growled a warning that the orange-haired man didn't heed,  
  
"Oh, no wait, it was from a Karaoke bar in downtown Tokyo.no, that's not it."  
  
"Schuldig." Crawford was shaking with rage and he clamped a hand onto the German's shoulder and subconsciously tried to crush the smaller man's collarbone. The seemingly unconcerned Telepath commented  
  
"Gee Crawford, you really shouldn't trust me with these important things, my little mind just can't cope!"  
  
Crawford slammed the younger man into the bench ledge behind him with such force that the coffee mugs left it's cherry hued surface and landed with a bang and the slosh of coffee. Crawford didn't notice as he yelled,  
  
"Schuldig, tell me where the damn call came from!"  
  
Schuldig sighed weakly and replied with a cool glare at the American,  
  
"Off the main highway, near that alleyway where we cornered the kittens once."  
  
"Are you fucking with me, Schuldig?"  
  
Despite himself the Telepath grinned and commented,  
  
"Well I didn't know you were that way inclined bu.."  
  
The German's sentence was cut off as he found himself slammed into the bench once again, an random thought told him he was going to have a nice bruise in the morning, he ignored it and concentrated on returning the air to his deprived lungs before he raised a hand to his heart and coughed,  
  
"Telepath's honour."  
  
Crawford closed his eyes in frustration before he muttered,  
  
"That's not much to rely on."  
  
With that the American let go of the younger man and turned, walking towards the doorway, picking up the keys to his BMW as he went. The leader had an inkling that for once the Telepath might have told him the truth. Years of dodging through Schuldig's mind games as well as his earlier premonition made the German's story somewhat believable. As he placed his hand on the doorknob he thought of something and yelled over his shoulder,  
  
"Schuldig!"  
  
The Telepath demonstrated his trademark speed, apparently having not suffered too much after his close encounter with the bench and replied with a dry smirk,  
  
"You yelled?"  
  
"Get Farf in his cell before I get home," The American swung open the door and as he was stepping out added as an afterthought, "And feed Nagi."  
  
Crawford continued walking and closed the door firmly behind him not waiting for a reply.  
  
A/N: For all those who don't think my warning at the start was irrelevant - I'm paranoid about offending people (partly because I don't want them to tell the "head honchos" here at ff.net to get rid of my fic and partly because it would stop people enjoying my fic) so don't flame me if you think it was or wasn't necessary and please don't flame me if you had a problem with the language/reference - I warned you. I stated I would change it if people felt it needed changing. Please don't flame me and please review! 


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Many thanks to everyone who reviewed!! You guys really made me feel guilty about not updating faster (please don't blame me - blame the evil, evil exams!) I found it really amusing that everyone desperately (or so it seems!) wants to know about "this Mavericks girl". Well I guess that's what the fic is about but (probably because I'm used to her running around in my fic ideas now.I have a fair chunk of this fic already written, it just needs adjusting and editing before it can be posted! ^_^;) I never saw her as "interesting" or "intriguing" at all I just see her as well.read this chappie and a fair bit will be explained and hopefully a few more questions raised ::crosses fingers and hopes:: Now on with a few special mentions I felt were necessary (If I have left you out your reviews did not in any way mean less to me!! It's just these three either had questions they needed answering or a comment I felt that had to be made!!!)  
  
Alexia: My sincere apologies! I looked back and I did indeed spell your name wrong!! I'm hoping that this isn't going to be ironic by way of me spelling it wrong again.!^_^ You've been great so far, please keep reviewing!  
  
Kamui: You are fabulous (for want of a better word!) I opened my inbox and out of the blue there was a review sitting in there. Me - "Hang on, I haven't posted anything for a while.? What the?" And it was your review! I've read a few 'girls join Weiss/Schwarz fics as well, I'm going to make a valiant attempt to make this one as different and off the wall as I can manage without making the characters too OOC (it's a bad habit of mine!) I hope you keep R&Ring and enjoying my fic. You deserved a special mention for being one of main "guilt trips" for not posting sooner!  
  
Akari Ryu: Schuldig left the room before Crawford dropped the fax machine.answer your question? By the way, you really don't think this needs upping on the rating?! I'll follow your advice on this one.for now!  
  
Enough of my babble and on with the chappie!  
  
Disclaimer: (Oh God I have to be witty now?!) Er, I don't own Schwarz.it's the property of 'Project Weiss' and some other people who have wild imaginations with the ability to dream up awesome bishies.(A/N: Well my humour's dried up for the moment hasn't it?!)  
  
Warning/s: Mild swearing, some violence.not a lot really!  
  
Flames Of Insanity - Chapter 6  
  
Crawford gazed, steely eyed behind his glasses, over the steering wheel of his BMW, seemingly focusing on the road ahead, however his thoughts were elsewhere. He would swear on his mothers grave, if he knew where it was, that the call had been deliberately disrupted, how exactly the American wasn't sure. A tapped line was the most probable.  
  
That disturbed him in more ways than one, if the call had been tapped, why? Why would a seventeen-year-old's phone call to a new employer cause that much suspicion? Surely the people who had informed Crawford of her existence would not be stupid enough to just leave the information lying around?! Another possibility was that this girl, Anna? Anne? Amelia? Whatever her name was, had enemies of her own, that was dangerous. Any enemy of a member of Schwarz was effectively an enemy of them all - and frankly, with Schuldig around, they didn't need any more.  
  
Then again it could have been a trap, designed to lure him out on his own and to a little known location.Crawford felt the comforting weight of the Gloc in his pocket - but was it enough? The ebony haired leader was not without his own share of personal enemies, most of them powerful people with connections in all the right places, they were after all, the only people who were worth being his competitors.  
  
Lost in his thoughts Crawford never saw the small, shadowy figure walking across the road barely three metres in front of him. The side street was dimly lit and the BMW's headlights barely seemed to touch the rolling gloom that surrounded the area, let alone move it. When he the headlights did catch it was far to close for the American to even contemplate stopping in time,  
  
"Shit!"  
  
As if they had heard him the figure looked over it's shoulder for the barest second before the car seemed to connect. Indeed Crawford saw the figure before him and heard the tumbling figure on the roof overhead and felt the brakes vainly squealing and trying to grasp the dampened road. They finally caught and the figure tumbled with a crunch onto the boot of the car before.  
  
Lightly leaping off and glaring into the rearview mirror.  
  
Crawford's eyes widened, as he took in the features, all too familiar even though he had only seen the picture for the barest moment. Short cropped midnight coloured hair, darker even than his own, seemed to emit it's own matt glow, like a ravens wing that was cut so straight it could have been sliced on the edge of a samurai sword. She had a pale, very pale face with the same pale lips, but the eyes. Crawford couldn't look at those eyes for very long, and he had glaring competitions with Schuldig almost daily. The colour was so weird that it shocked him, the iris's seemed to hold no highlights or shadows, just a matt vibrant electric blue that seemed so bright that Crawford felt sure they illuminated his very soul.  
  
The next thing Crawford noted was that she was tiny - in every sense of the word. Crawford felt any hope of this girl becoming an assassin was dashed and secretly hoped that this petite thing had a twin sister, one who was a lot bigger. The girl barely cleared 5'1" and had the lightest frame Crawford could imagine without making the person anorexic. Slowly, still glaring in the rearview mirror the girl raised her middle finger defiantly at him, her ripped black shirt sleeve falling back to somewhere near her elbow. With that she turned and started to melt back into the gloom.  
  
Crawford paused for a moment to collect his thoughts before flinging the car door opened and proceeding to get back swiftly. The person Crawford assumed was the Pyrokinetic had headed towards the entrance to a narrow alleyway. The Schwarz leader followed, hand to his pocket, checking his loaded Gloc was still there. If the girl noticed she failed to show signs of it.  
  
The American entered the shadowy alleyway after the girl, the gloomy fog curling up around his knees. When his mahogany eyes adjusted to the changed light they widened for the briefest moment, it was the alleyway from his premonition, he was sure of it. Halfway down was a chain-link fence, around seven feet high, reasonably narrow, barely wide enough to fit two children side by side, the brick walls either side seemed to Crawford to be too close for comfort. He quickly scanned through his memory, trying to remember the fight with the kittens, it had been so long since that fight, did the alley widen out? It must have, it fitted two teams in there with enough room to move.  
  
The American's expensive shoes crunched over what seemed like a decade's worth of alcohol bottles, but he seemed not to notice, so caught up in the moment at hand. Ahead the figure, clad in jeans and a black shirt that was ripped at the collar and sleeves, stopped abruptly and said, without turning around,  
  
"If you're the bastard who almost ran me over - I'm fine so you can leave."  
  
The voice was somewhat familiar but Crawford wasn't going to rely on that, seeing as he only caught a few words of the girl's voice on the phone. He paid close attention now - it was wary, cool and had a distinctly arrogant edge to it. It rang close enough for Crawford to remember it now though the polite tone was gone it was definitely her voice. Anyone other than Brad Crawford would have been intimidated or at least at a loss how to handle this situation, however the Schwarz assassin had lived with Schuldig for too long and coped with Nagi when he decided to be "sociable".  
  
"Anna," Crawford said, his voice carrying an attitude of nonchalant boredom, while secretly he hoped he had the right name, "I suggest you speak more respectfully towards your new employer."  
  
The girl known as Anna Mavericks slowly turned to set her odd coloured gaze squarely on the bigger man, looking him up and down with no apparent signs that she knew or cared she was being rude before she met Crawford's mahogany gaze squarely and slowly raised a raven coloured eyebrow into a perfect arch and replied with echoes of sarcasm and attitude ringing off every syllable,  
  
"I think not. I'm not employed by anyone except myself. Now, if you'll just leave, unless you want to be caught up in a suicide mission, and leave me to do my real job."  
  
Even Schuldig wasn't this blatantly insolent the German Telepath was teasing and manipulative but never this. Crawford was not swayed, he had been hoodwinked into hiring a Pyrokinetic and he was damn well going to hire one.  
  
"That's not what I was told. I've hired you and by that you are bound by a contract to work for and alongside myself. If you don't like it feel free to complete your "suicide mission" and this will be the end of it."  
  
Crawford inwardly gave a smug smirk, even Schu would have been happy with that reply. However the tiny girl barely batted an eye before replying in a tone filled with sarcasm and apparent boredom, before she chuckled, shook her head and replied,  
  
"You're just like the rest of them - you underestimate me. Don't they teach you that where you work? 'Never underestimate the opponent'. I know you've got a Gloc in your pocket, but I'm not assuming anything about your shot until I see it. I'm also not going to attempt to disarm you because I don't know how good you are."  
  
Crawford was thrown by what the girl had just said, but like the trained professional he was, he refused to let it show. Instead he bought himself time.  
  
"Why are you telling me this?"  
  
The girl shrugged and replied insolently,  
  
"Because if you're going to try and take me by force then you know where I stand."  
  
Crawford spied an opening in her quick attitude and replied,  
  
"Isn't that putting you at a disadvantage?"  
  
"Isn't what you're doing putting you at a disadvantage? Tying to buy time, it shows signs of weakness, you know."  
  
'Jesus Christ!' Crawford's head screamed at him as the girl switched the tables around just as he thought he had them bolted to the floorboards. He wondered briefly if she was telepathic before dismissing the idea, Telepath's were curious buggers and she would have tried a probe by now, instead he said one of the stupidest lines he had ever heard himself say, and afterwards promptly kicked himself for it,  
  
"I've hired you."  
  
The girl shrugged again, her mouth twitching into a half smirk that made her pale lips look positively evil before she replied with dry, bitter sarcasm,  
  
"For what?" She snorted and continued, her electric blue eyes mocking, "A secretary? A prostitute?"  
  
The Schwarz leader's blood boiled at these accusations, he ignored Schuldig's teasing because it was only playful, something the Telepath did when he was bored. The American knew that under the teasing was respect, this girl had none. It was a blatant false accusation that infuriated him, checking his emotions as hard as he could, his training kicking in even without him thinking about it he hissed,  
  
"No, as an assassin."  
  
A/N: Ta da! Everyone this is Anna, Anna this is everyone! I want feedback! Please people I want to know comments, improvements, likes/dislikes - gimme them all. I'm not the only one who has to be happy with this character! There are some rock solid things that cannot be changed but I like constructive criticism.and compliments! Please review and gimme this feedback! I'm hanging on tenterhooks here! ^_^;; 


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Once again, my apologies for the long times between updates and my thanks to everyone who reviewed. It really does guilt me into posting sooner, honest! I'm really happy with the response I got from people about Anna, mixed feelings – just what I hoped I'd get! Enough of my chat, I've kept you waiting long enough Enjoy!  
  
Disclaimer: I. Do. Not. Own. Weiss. Kreuz. (I wrote that slowly so that you can be in no doubt that I don't own them! ^^)  
  
Flames Of Insanity – Chapter 7  
  
The teen's eyes widened one of the few signs of true emotion Crawford had seen her make. She opened her mouth as if to reply, but instead she whirled around to face the chain-link fence behind her, her ebony hair flying in all directions as she did so. The American's keep eyes narrowed as he heard the all too familiar sound of a gun being loaded.  
  
Mentally cursing his lack of Foresight causing him to come here alone. E reached for his gun, but as fast as he was the mere silhouettes against the streetlight's shadows, which dropped into the alleyway from the roofs of the surrounding buildings were faster. The peaceful night was shredded by gun- shots which filled the air with fatal, flying lead.  
  
It was in that moment Crawford knew the meaning of the word fear. He refused to yield to it. He continued to reach for his gun, even as he waited for the bullets to strike, bringing with them searing pain. In that single agonisingly long moment he wondered what had happened to change the future he had Foreseen barely an hour ago. Shooting her electric blue gaze at the dark haired Schwarz leader the dark haired teen sprang forward, a graceful spring that allowed her to arc far over Crawford's head, her palms outstretched and her brows furrowed in concentration.  
  
A warm glow surrounded her fingertips, before it spread down to engulf her hands entirely, it sparked and crackled before curling into gyrating flames which flew towards the shadowy figures as she hurtled downwards, gravity grasping her again. The flames engulfed their bullets when they were barely an inch away from her. Her sneakers landed on the asphalt as silent as a whisper as the burning figures screams slowly died as they crumbled, smoldering, into a pile of ashes.  
  
Breathing hard the girl looked over her shoulder at the Precognitive man, her electric blues sparking with an emotion Crawford couldn't place but knew he had seen before, she broke him out of his reverie stating,  
  
"An assassin...I'm listening."  
  
Crawford flicked his mahogany eyes from Anna to the smoking ashes behind her, which had once been people to the molten lead spots on the ground. Within half a second he had recovered from his initial shock, he blamed his lack of awe on the fact he had seen Farfarello cause considerable destruction on many occasions.  
  
"I'm not stupid enough to tell you all you need to know in a dark alleyway where we've just been attacked." The American's tone was as blunt as a butter-knife.  
  
The Pyrokinetic merely raised an eyebrow and replied in a bored manner,  
  
"Yet you were stupid enough to follow an unknown person down an alleyway with a dead end in the middle of the night, despite several warnings of possible fatal encounters?"  
  
Anna snickered and Crawford was struck by the fact she was seemingly always sarcastic, maybe even slightly sadistic – but was she insane?  
  
"If you're interested the car I nearly ran you over in is sitting over there, if not tell me now and I'll leave."  
  
Crawford even surprised himself sometimes at the way he was able to do business when his mind was on other things.  
  
Anna's startling eyes grew slightly serious when she heard the older man's words and she replied slyly,  
  
"What if I'm interested but I hear what you have to say and then I'm not?"  
  
Crawford chuckled at the rambling answer, before he replied slickly,  
  
"Only one way to find out."  
  
The teen glared at him before stalking past him, snarling,  
  
"Fine then, be that way."  
  
The Schwarz leader watched her walk past calmly before taking his hand out of his suits pocket, where it had been clutching his gun, and followed her towards the car. When he opened the drivers side door Anna was already seated in the leather covered passenger seat, looking bored and resting her dirty sneakers on the dashboard. Resisting the urge to hit the insolent girl the ex-boxer merely sat down in the seat next to her and closed the car door. They sat in silence for a moment before the ebony haired teen remarked,  
  
"Well, I'm really interested, yep, I'm definitely joining you little assassin team."  
  
Crawford looked at the girl sharply and said,  
  
"How did you know it was a team?"  
  
Anna chuckled against before replying what was becoming her usual mocking, sarcastic tone,  
  
"Well if you wanted me for a lone assassin you would have come straight out with cash, if you wanted me for anything other than being an assassin you would have tried by now and with your reflexes you would have died in that alleyway. You wouldn't get many clients on your own."  
  
The American bristled at the teen's blatant criticism and again fought the urge to hit her – or shut her up at least. The Pyrokinetic seemed not to notice, instead she tapped the toe of one of her well worn sneakers onto the windscreen and asked,  
  
"So, what's the deal?"  
  
A/N: Farfie and Nagi fans that are reading this – your bishies will take part later on! I haven't forgotten them...and if you're *really* pissed off about me not posting this sooner...you can flame me...just remember that I probably won't pay any attention and I may take longer to post new stuff just to annoy you. Nice reviews will be gladly accepted and rewarded with new chapters! 


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Hey! How'd this happen, I updated kinda regularly! Wowie! Thanks to those who reviewed!  
  
Disclaimer: Weiss is not mine, Project Weiss and some other people have that honour. Not me. I do however own Anna and if you for any reason want to use her for your own work please ask me first – but if you don't at least credit me for her.  
  
Flames Of Insanity – Chapter 8  
  
The man sat in the shadowy office alone. The other employees had long since left, but the man seemed not to notice. He was deep in thought.  
  
The "business deal" he had sealed with a certain assassin over an hour ago, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease...it had gone well, too well. He knew that the American would see through his plan but he had expected more of a fight, and that made him nervous. Rosenkreuz had contacted him almost instantly after the girl was found to exist and be "at large" as they referred to her as.  
  
They knew he had information so it was no use playing dumb, instead he played the game the only way he knew how.  
  
"Pay me," he had said, "If you want information then you pay going market rate."  
  
He had then swung into the second phase of his plan, having successfully cornered Rosenkreuz for the time being. He wasn't stupid enough to think he had permanently cornered them. He rang Brad Crawford, thinking that if he played his cards right he could get rid of Rosenkreuz completely by saying, honestly, that he had no idea where the girl was. He could also, if everything went according to plan, Schwarz would gain the much-needed tactical advantage against their enemies.  
  
What disturbed the man most however, was that Schwarz had more enemies than they realised, and yet their leader had accepted the new recruit almost without hesitation.  
  
This brough the other problem he was contemplating to mind. There was a reason he had chosen this dangerous path – he could have easily handed the girl over to Rosenkreuz, but he hadn't. He had given, possibly, the most wanted psychic on the planet to a group of mis-matched assassins, and they had accepted their rare gift without even knowing what it's true value was.  
  
"Do you really understand what you've taken on, Crawford? Or are you walking blind-folded onto the battlefield?"  
  
The man pulled an expensive Cuban cigar from the top pocket of his well cut charcoal suit and lit the end, taking a long drag of it's particularly potent fumes. He released the white cloud that had wormed it's way into his lungs and muttered,  
  
"Not that you are alone..."  
  
He say down, this though had not occurred to him. Perhaps that was why the usually formidable opponent that was Brad Crawford had been so easily coerced into agreement.  
  
"Do you think you can take on what Rosenkreuz is planning with a child, a playful Telepath and a crazy man? Or do you honestly not know a thing? Blessed with Precognition as you are, do you honestly not know a thing?"  
  
He took another long drag on the cigar, he was in a dangerous position, he seemed to be almost constantly there. However, this was probably the most dangerous place he had ever found himself in. His life was hanging in the balance – either side could and might kill him ruthlessly, but stubborn as he was, he refused to believe he had made the wrong choice. There was no other way.  
  
A/N: Different, huh? 


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: My thanks to everyone who reviewed! I've been told I need to make my chapters longer...I'll try to in the future, guys, but I do prefer short and sweet chapters to one's that drag on – we've all read them and I've made a promise to myself to endeavor not to write them. On a lighter note my two fav Weiss characters intereact in this chappie and I had great fun writing it. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it   
  
Disclaimer: (Please insert your personal favourite witty disclaimer in here as this author cannot be bothered dreaming up her own however, let it be known she does not wish to be sued.)  
  
Flames Of Insanity – Chapter 9  
  
Schuldig padded down the hall, a steaming mug of coffee in his left hand. As he headed casually down the hall, blatantly ignoring the unhygienic chaos under his feet, a door to his left flung open violently and the German swung his coffee cup swiftly out of harms way. His Irish teammate stalked out, his weapon of choice held clenched in his right hand, it's keen blade stained with the litres of blood that it had spilled . As the taller man passed his the red-head called calmly,  
  
"You killed that cat yesterday..."  
  
Farfarello stopped and whispered a curse before turning around with the grace of a cat, each muscle honed to perfection and battle readiness. He prepared to stalk back into his room, but the wickedly grinning German stopped him. The bladesman's lone, deadened amber eye narrowed in annoyance and the Telepath grinned with glee after he noticed the younger man was reasonably lucid, his attitude was that of one who was merely frustrated. Exactly what the Irishman was frustrated about the red-head didn't care, all he cared about was the fact that he was able to annoy the silver-haired man with a lesser chance of being brutally impaled and then hung from the ceiling by his entrails.  
  
With a grin the devil himself couldn't lay claim to Schuldig lifted the coffee cup to his lips and took a sip before saying calmly,  
  
"Braddie's got a girlfriend..."  
  
The taller man's face showed no signs that he had either heard or cared however, the German noticed the younger man's hand clench a little tighter around his blade in annoyance that the Telepath was blocking him for seemingly trivial matters. Schuldig's grin broadened and he casually took another sip before saying,  
  
"She's pretty cute..."  
  
Farfarello's visible eye narrowed again, but Schuldig wasn't daunted in the slightest as he continued on,  
  
"He's gone to see her..."  
  
The Irishman's teeth gritted in annoyance and he made to move around the German, but the older man was swifter and blocked him again.  
  
"Do you know what Nagi likes to eat? 'Cause I have no id-"  
  
Farfarello slammed his shoulder into the Telepath who slid backwards a few feet, dust and grit rising in a cloud from the once- cream- coloured carpet. Schuldig looked at his coffee mug and miraculously hadn't spilt a drop, he shrugged and took a sip before saying, his eyes on his coffee,  
  
"Jesus Christ, Farf, just trying to make conversation..."  
  
At the sound of the German's curse the taller, stronger man gave Schuldig a sharp elbow in the stomach which promptly winded the red-head and temporarily stemmed his over-intelligent comments, in the choice opportunity Farfarello shouldered past the gaping Telepath to enter his room and slam the door shut.  
  
Still trying to regain his breath the Telepath started to chuckle and it soon escalated to a loud cackle of amusement as air once again filled his lungs. Schuldig lunged at the handle of the mad-mans room, his coffee cup flying from his hands to deposit it's legend upon the already disgusting history of the carpet. He grasped the brass handle triumphantly before slamming the little brass key, which Crawford had handed the all the other occupants except for Farfarello, into the lock and turning it hearing the mechanism click.  
  
Apparently Farfarello noticed as well, because as Schuldig pulled the key out of the door a three foot long shining blade broke through the wooden door, inches away from the German's head. Close enough to make the German start to sweat. His period of fear didn't last as long. He smirked and said, after he had backed a safe distance away from the door,  
  
"Hey Farfarello? You missed!"  
  
Still laughing as he heard Farfarello's frustration taken out on whatever happened to be closest. The red-head kicked open his own bedroom door and strode in before dramatically flinging himself onto his king-size bed. He was silent for a moment before he chuckled again, he quickly stifled it in case Farfarello broke his door down. He giggled evilly and whipped off his canary-yellow bandana and stuffing it into his mouth in an effort to control his gleeful laughter, seconds later he deemed it hopeless and removed the bandana to burst into maniacal laughter. 


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Thanks heaps to everyone who reviewed!! This fic has collected the most reviews out of everything I've written so far and I love the fact people are enjoying it! I hope you enjoy this newest installment and keep up the reviews ::bounces around in 'super genki Omi mode'::  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Weiss Kreuz, Project Weiss own all character and concepts. I do however own Julianna Mavericks and any other OC's I decide to create. If you feel the need to use any of my OC's please notify me first and credit them.  
  
Flames Of Insanity – Chapter 10  
  
Nagi closed the front door behind him, the sound of laughter reaching his ears. Rolling his navy eyes the teen walked towards the lounge – if Schuldig was laughing the Telekinetic teen would rather not be anywhere near him. Instead he sat down on the couch, ignoring the small writhing knot of hunger that had started to tickle his gut. The youngest Schwarz member looked around the room, searching for the remote.  
  
He generally didn't watch television, preferring the vast expanse of telephone connections that was the Internet to crying over sappy soap opera's. However, if Schuldig was in a more evil mood than normal and judging by the laughter and various crashes from upstairs he was, it usually turned out to be safer to put as much distance between yourself and the Telepath as possible. Not those mere walls deterred the German. Nagi had found out both things the hard way.  
  
The Japanese boy finally spied the remote, sitting on the kitchen bench where someone had placed it. Raising a hand and barely having to close his eyes in concentration the remote shot off the bench to slap into the teens outstretched hand. From across the room the television guide jumping with a rustle of papers and landed neatly on the couch next to the dark haired teen. One glance at the guide told the intelligent boy why the remote had been on the mahogany bench and who had put it there – 'Iron Wok Chef Marathon – 6 hours of the best battles and never before seen footage from Japan's favourite cooking masters!'  
  
Nagi wondered briefly if Farfarello had bothered to leave any of the dishes he had whipped up, naturally with a lot of knife brandishing. He quickly dismissed the idea, the Irishman was known to "improvise" to create recipes more appealing to his own "unique" tastes and Nagi, quite rightly, didn't trust them to match his own. He lazily pressed a button on the remote manually, thankful for the noise. Schuldig had stopped laughing and only the occasional thud or smash from Farfarello's room broke the silence. Unfortunately it also made the red-head become aware of his presence...  
  
Good afternoon, Master Naoe, Mister Crawford is away on business at the moment so feel free to -   
  
The Telepathic greeting was brought to an abrupt end when the teen slammed up his mental shields with surprising speed and force – another thing he had learnt the hard way.  
  
"What was that for?" A familiar voice said from the stair before he shot in and picked up the remote and glanced at the TV, raising a copper coloured eyebrow,  
  
"Chibi, why're you watching this? You should watch some "decent" TV...!"  
  
The Telepath said changing the channel from the renovations program to something Nagi decided he didn't want to watch...there was slightly too much naked flesh for his liking. He decided he would be safer if he left to go to his room and onto the Internet – away from the Telepath. However, as he approached the stairs, it appeared as if the Telepath was blocking his way. Schuldig raised an eyebrow and said with a grin that was steadily widening by the second,  
  
"Can I at least finish my important notice?"  
  
Nagi groaned inwardly as he quickly contemplated the possibilities in his currently well-shielded mind. Schuldig either had a) something actually important to tell him or b) it was going to be something completely pointless designed to annoy the teen. Knowing the Telepath well Nagi was tempted to go with the latter option until he remembered the Telepath's first comment of,  
  
'Mr. Crawford is away on business...'  
  
Maybe he'd better listen, slowly glaring at the Telepath, navy eyes meeting equally dark blues, he nodded slowly. Schuldig grinned openly and said,  
  
"Well...guess!"  
  
Nagi fumed inwardly and the banister next to him began to shake, though no- one was touching it, Schuldig's eyes flicked to the banister and he seemed to decide that he could push the kid a little more as he said,  
  
"Go on, chibi, I didn't hear your guess!"  
  
The banister crashed free of the balcony, uprooting the edges of the cream coloured carpet and sending up a cloud of various disgusting, rotten and stench filled items and remnants that rose and whirled around the two assassin's ankles. Meanwhile the banister landed with a crash in the hall below, sending splintered wood shards flying to shatter the various glass ornaments, mirrors and photographs Crawford had neatly arranged in that hall so that if unwanted doorknockers arrived they would see a seemingly normal upper-class suburban entrance hall. Schuldig carefully stepped away from the now banister-less ledge and looked over at the chaos below and said,  
  
"Nice job...you can clean up."  
  
Both Schwarz members then heard a key fitted into the front door lock, Nagi froze eyes widening slightly as he looked at the shattered remains of what was once their entrance hall. Schuldig started to laugh again.  
  
Crawford stood on the doorstep to the house the Schwarz members resided in at the moment. It was a reasonably new addition to their never-ending supply of luxuries. Crawford and his new recruit had barely spoken on the way home. Anna keeping her feet on the dashboard – much to Crawford's disgust, and Crawford ignoring her under the pretence of needing to concentrate on the myriad of 'driving hazards' presented by the 'other drivers' on the deserted back streets they encountered on the journey. He didn't think she had been convinced, frankly, neither had he.  
  
He slipped the key into the lock, Anna leaning against the brick wall watching with a bored expression on her face. Crawford gritted his teeth, ignored it and prayed to anything and everything that could possibly be able to help him that the house and it's inhabitants were acting in some semblance of normality.  
  
The Gods were obviously out at lunch.  
  
A/N: I'm working on writing longer chapters – honest guys! Can you R&R anyway?! 


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Special thanks to 'Suninun' who reviewed the last chapter and gave me a grin with her depictions of everyone's favourite evil assassins plus one OC's expressions! Hope this chapter meets your expectations! And guess what? I think this chappie might even make a decent length! ;;  
  
Disclaimer: Did I say I owned Weiss Kreuz ::points to the guy standing next to her:: wasn't me! Don't sue!! ;;  
  
_Telepathic communication  
_  
Flames Of Insanity – Chapter 11  
  
Crawford blinked twice, trying to figure out what the hell had happened to the entrance hall that he could have sworn was there when he left. It took him a moment to register the fact that the out of place object, which had obviously triggered a lot of other mishaps, such as the shattered vases, tables and mirrors, was a banister wedged on a crazy angle between the walls of the hall and blocking and further progression. The entire hall was covered with dust and to top it all off the American couldn't for the life of him see a way to get through it all to the other side. Just as he was beginning to collect his thoughts on the matter and who was going to be to blame when his thoughts were verified with a familiar German voice calling,  
  
"Hi, Braddie! Nagi redecorated – do you like it?"  
  
Fighting to keep his voice calm, biting back as much sarcasm as physically possible without causing a vein to burst, Crawford called back, hoping to hell that Anna couldn't see past him into the hall,  
  
"It looks lovely, Schuldig. Now can you and Nagi make a path through this chaos so that our new friend can get through the front door?"  
  
Schuldig zipped down the stairs grinning, passing a dumbstruck Nagi on the way, to stand at the opposite end of the hall to Crawford. Upon seeing the leader's face contorted into an odd grimacing scream he was very glad that there was a good two and a half meters of chaos between himself and the American as he snickered and quipped,  
  
"But you're not new, Braddie! We see you almost everyday!" Grinning more broadly now Schuldig continued, "And you're already through the front door!"  
  
Crawford was very tempted to reach for his gun, the only thing stopping him was the knowledge that the Telepath would dodge it and that unfortunately the German was an important part of their team. Not even Crawford would claim to be a better manipulator or quicker in a tight spot than the red- head. Forcing his face into a vague semblance of it's normal state, only the drastically creased brows showing any hint of his true emotions he said,  
  
"Thank you for that enlightening speech. Can you let us through now?"  
  
Crawford was suddenly very aware that Anna was shifting restlessly behind him and his vision blurred, a searing pain dashed across his temples, spreading across behind his eyes and he clenched them in pain. Schuldig's annoyance eliciting face dropped and he said quickly,  
  
"Crawford, what is it?"

* * *

The hallway was still in chaos, but he feels something push his shoulder, electric blue eyes caught his in a deadly glare as they leapt past. With a sinking heart he saw the girl nimbly flit up the crumbling pile of debris. He is astonished that she can move so silently up the precarious pile, so swiftly and still not dislodge a single piece. Astonishment turns to gut wrenching shock as small fireball forms in her hand. Her freak-like eyes locked on Schuldig...

* * *

His vision cleared as quickly as it had left and he whirled around to see those blue eyes catching his as they passed and he bit back a strangled yelp. Watching his vision unfurl, still impressed with the way the girl moved – swift and silent in a way that couldn't be taught. Regaining his senses he yelled with all the might his fumbling mind could muster,  
  
_Schuldig! MOVE!!_  
  
The German winced as Crawford's yell shattered his well- constructed mental shields. Seconds later he had rebuilt them, but by the time he returned to the normal mental plane he saw the tiny Pyrokinetic girl standing with her feet spread and braced as she balanced on the teetering banister that sat on a crazy angle in the hall. A fist- sized vortex of fire was spinning in her hand. Schuldig didn't move instantly, though every muscle was twitching with nervous energy, instead he raised his navy eyes to meet the girl's electric blue's, the flames in her hand reflected in their depths. Slowly, maintaining eye-contact, he bowed and said,  
  
"Forgive my manners, a pleasure to meet you."  
  
Anna raised an ebony eyebrow and merely remained watching him. Schuldig smiled slowly and asked cryptically,  
  
"So, little firefly, what shall I call you?"  
  
_Schuldig..._Crawford's voice rang a warning in his mind and he merely blinked and responded calmly,  
  
_Quiet, Braddie. I'm investigating...  
_  
The corners of the teen's mouth twitched and she replied,  
  
"Little Firefly sounds excellent."  
  
_She's 17, nothing off the top on her history...she likes Elvis, that's different!  
_  
Schuldig smiled and said aloud, his eyes never leaving the girl who had him guarded,  
  
"Well, Little Firefly, welcome to the humble abode we care to call home. We hope you will have a pleasant stay..."  
  
She smirked and her electric blues shifted with suppressed laughter for a minute moment before returning to their expressionless former state,  
  
"If the entire 'abode you call home' is crafted like this, I'm sure I will."  
  
_She's likes romance novels, she's never been outside of Japan...  
_  
Schuldig chuckled loudly then and grinned at her saying,  
  
"You're good."  
  
She smirked again and replied,  
  
"Yes, Telepath, I am."  
  
Schuldig called over to Crawford, who was standing perplexed behind Anna,  
  
"Ignore all that, Crawford, she was feeding me a load of crap!"  
  
Anna chuckled and leapt silently off the banister, flames still in her hand. This time Schuldig really did move, sashaying to one side so the girl landed soundlessly on the well sprung wooden floorboards and grinned at him,  
  
"Scared you."  
  
Schuldig shrugged and replied coolly,  
  
"Touché, Little Firefly."  
  
She chuckled, a little louder this time and Schuldig heard a clear, distinctive voice slip past his mind, he caught it just before it left,  
  
_So, Telepath, how do I know I can trust you?  
_  
_Ahhh, now that would be telling, Little Firefly. I don't tell anything until you tell first.  
_  
_I asked first.  
  
Close, but no cigar, Firefly.  
  
You haven't even asked me what you want me to tell, I have. Answer and I'll consider answering yours.  
  
Heh, Firefly, you play a quick game, except for the fact that I'm the master and you are the novice in this exercise. If you'll only consider answering mine then I will only consider answering yours.  
  
So consider away, O Master Telepath, for although you are good, I'll admit. You are not the best – otherwise this 'novice's' trick would never have fooled you.  
  
Firefly, someone has trained you well, however what makes you think I didn't just play along...?  
_  
Crawford stood doing his best stunned mullet expression - the one that got used about once a year and was reserved for special occasions such as Farfarello creating a particularly creative method by which to kill a person, Nagi's various 'mishaps' such as the one displayed before him at the current moment and Schuldig's ability to worm his way out of seemingly anything. Though he couldn't hear the conversation he knew that gleam in Schuldig's eye and swore that if Anna could slip her way out unscathed he would shoot himself. It was a feat he had not yet been able to manage. He also didn't want to stop them, the German often brought out the worst in people and Crawford decided that before he could trust this girl he had to see how she dealt with a truly tricky Telepath.  
  
_Telepath, why bother? If you were able to see through my little charade you must have been able to access the real goods.  
  
Firefly, you amaze me, were you a Telepath in a past life?  
  
Not last time I checked.  
  
_Schuldig shrugged and said with a slowly growing smirk,  
  
_Firefly, you would do well to remember this. Never play mind games with a Telepath – you won't win.  
_  
He looked over at Crawford and said,  
  
"Crawford, she's quick I'll grant her, but she's not a natural Telepath, only Pyrokinetic. She's well trained but she could be broken down. She's got brilliant shields but they have flaws. She's got grey areas but I'm not stupid enough to touch them...yet. She's smart and has an excellent grasp of English."  
  
He grinned at the girl whose eyes had widened slightly with shock,  
  
"Sorry, Firefly." He stuck out a hand and said, "My name's Schuldig."  
  
Anna slowly raised her eyes to meet his again and she said with a wry smile and she nodded to his hand,  
  
"Du bist wirklich Schuldig, Telepathische." (You are truly guilty, Telepath)  
  
Schuldig chuckled and called to Crawford,  
  
"And she speaks lovely German!"  
  
Crawford groaned inwardly.


End file.
